


The Ophelia Files, Part 2

by LadyShadowWalker



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Genocide, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowWalker/pseuds/LadyShadowWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Told from Ophelia's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Way to Bring Him Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of warnings: angst, thoughts of suicide, drug withdrawal, canonical character death, canon-typical violence, torture.

It was her fault the Mountain Men had captured him and had…infected him with whatever this was. It was her fault and she couldn’t even bear to look at him. Her beautiful Malcolm had been reduced into this horrendous monstrosity. He had given up his entire life for her. He didn’t deserve this. He was too kind, too loving and compassionate, and all of that had been torn away from him unwillingly. A man who had once whispered sweet words and tenderness in her ear now shouted and bellowed incoherently, frothing and roaring his rage as he fought against his restraints with a ferociousness that had Ophelia cowering in a corner out of sight. It wasn’t fair.

“I am not afraid.” Tears splashed on her clenched hands. She was terrified. She was terrified that Malcolm was gone and he was now this unrecognizable raving beast who had attacked her. “I am not afraid,” she whispered again. All she really wanted was a hug from Malcolm right now. She sobbed. “I am not afraid.” She covered her ears so she couldn’t hear him screaming anymore. “I am not afraid.”

Malcolm eventually calmed down. She peeked out from her corner. He appeared to be in that feverish sleep state again like when she and William had carried him to the dropship. He twitched and jerked in his chains every once in a while but the aggressive thrashing was gone. She knew better than to approach him; it would only wake him and get him riled up again.

“Please hurry, William,” she whispered.

Stomping noises from down below echoed up the hatch across from where Ophelia sat, hidden from Malcolm’s view. William was back. Boots clumped up the ladder and an orange medical box was lifted through and placed on the floor. Ophelia glanced over, expecting William but was surprised when Claire’s blonde head popped up through the hole. Even better than getting a med kit, William had brought back Claire.

Malcolm woke up shouting at the noise and began yanking and fighting at his restraints again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” William followed Claire through the hatch. “He’s been restrained.”

“I can’t believe we’re back here again,” Claire replied.

“Can you help him?” Ophelia asked bluntly. If Claire couldn’t help him, it was best Ophelia found out now instead of clinging to false hope.

Claire shook her head, making Ophelia’s heart quake. “I don’t know.”

That was better than a no. Ophelia closed her eyes as she took a couple of deep breaths, trying to steady the rising panic even as her body trembled at the thought of how close she was to losing Malcolm. If Claire couldn’t save him…. _I am not afraid._

“I knew Mount Weather controlled the Reapers,” Claire said. “I had no idea they were creating them.”

“If they can do that to Malcolm, what are they doing to our friends?” William asked.

Malcolm thrashed and screamed in response.

“Do you have some light?” Claire asked as she stepped closer.

Ophelia stood up and walked over to William’s side, shining her flashlight at the Reaper who had once been her Malcolm.

“Aaaaah!” he screamed as if in agony. “Aaaaaah!”

William exchanged worried glances with her, a dark frown on his face. She tightened her jaw, standing straighter. _I am not afraid._

Malcolm stopped screaming and began twitching and shaking again.

“He’s convulsing,” Claire said.

“So, what does it mean?” Ophelia asked. It had been happening off and on for the past hour or so.

“What happened to his leg?” Claire asked instead.

He had tried to kill her and had been trying to kill William. “I shot him.” Claire stared at her in shock, as if doubting she had it in her to do something like that. Ophelia blinked, not wanting Claire to see the truth in her eyes; she had done it for Malcolm, knowing he would rather die than harm her.

“Claire, he’s lost a lot of blood,” William said. They had tried to patch him up before they carried him back but they didn’t have Claire’s medical expertise.

Malcolm started grunting and growling again, straining at his chains and lunging at Claire just out of his reach. Claire took a step closer, almost taunting him, and Ophelia wanted to stop her because it was upsetting Malcolm so much.

“Can you shine the light on his neck?” Claire asked.

She and William brought their flashlights up toward his face. Malcolm reacted violently, shying away from their light as if it burned.

“Needle marks,” Claire said.

“You think he’s been drugged?” William asked.

“Maybe,” Claire replied before she was suddenly dragged close into Malcolm’s deathly embrace as one of the chains broke free from the wall.

“Malcolm!” Ophelia screamed as she charged up to him only to get thrown back out of the way. She landed hard, the air knocked out of her, stunned and choking as she tried to catch her breath back.

William and Claire tried to stop him but Claire was thrown off and William ended up pinned beneath Malcolm as Malcolm pummeled him. Ophelia staggered to her feet, picking up a heavy pipe off the floor and swung it at Malcolm, hitting him in the back. He turned toward her and she whacked him again, this time in the head. He fell back, lifeless.

She collapsed next to William, checking to make sure he was okay before looking over at Malcolm, lying so still and silent, his face peaceful in unconsciousness and achingly familiar once again. She swallowed back the tears. He was still in there and she was going to get him back.

They got him tied up again, this time on his back on the floor. His breathing occasionally quickened and he would jerk and jolt as if trapped in a nightmare. Ophelia ran a finger over his creased brow as he sweated and panted, his eyes moving frantically beneath his eyelids. They were both trapped in a nightmare. She poured some more water down his throat. Claire had said he was dehydrated and to get as much water in him as she could.

“We have to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out,” Claire said as she inspected his gunshot wound. “Hold his leg down.”

William moved into position, pinning Malcolm’s leg in place for Claire as Malcolm grunted and groaned and shook.

“Shhh.” Ophelia brought the water flask to his lips again and began to pour.

He growled at her, turning and biting at her hand.

“Aah!” Ophelia stumbled back in surprise, dropping the flask and spilling the water as Malcolm continued to growl and snap at her. _I am not afraid._ She picked up the flask with trembling hands as she pretended everything was okay. “I’ll get some more.” She wasn’t even able to look at Malcolm as she stood up and moved toward the hatch.

“O.” William stopped her, a bleak expression on his face even as he tried to placate her. “Once the drug is out of his system, he’ll be okay.”

“You can’t protect me from this one, big brother.” She moved past him and down the hatch, leaving William and Claire to fix Malcolm’s wound while she momentarily escaped.

She walked outside into the fading sunlight, concentrating on simply putting one foot in front of the other. She was on auto-pilot. If she allowed herself to think, she would break. His screams spilled out from the dropship, ringing in her ears. Being away from him, unable to see the bloodshot eyes and the battered and grizzly face, it was almost worse. He was suffering and she was helpless.

She sniffed back her tears and straightened up, a flash of white drawing her attention. A white flower in a tree. Her heart stuttered. That was Malcolm’s sign for her, to let her know it was safe to meet him. She glanced around in angry confusion that someone would play such a cruel trick on her.

She hurried over to the tree and was grabbed from behind, a large hand covering her mouth as a voice whispered in her ear, “Shh. Shh. Shh.”

She recognized the voice, stopping her struggling as he released her. “Nicky,” she whispered in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Our scouts have already arrived,” Nicky replied. “The Commander is true to her word. If you do not leave, you will die.” He was here to warn her. “Ophelia, you saved my life from the Reapers. Now let me save yours. It’s what Malcolm would have wanted.”

A particularly loud shout from Malcolm reverberated around them, causing Nicky to turn toward the dropship in apprehension.

“What was that?” he asked.

Ophelia glanced away. “That was Malcolm.” She looked back at Nicky and saw the realization creep over his face that Malcolm had been turned into a Reaper. “Can you help?”

Nicky frowned solemnly but he nodded, sending flickers of hope through Ophelia.

“How did you know about the flower?” she asked him as she walked him to the dropship.

“When Malcolm came to me for the antidote, he knew he was going to die.” Nicky held back the curtain for her as they entered the dropship. “He asked me to keep an eye on you and told me about the flowers.”

Ophelia closed her eyes as the tears threatened to spill again. One step in front of the other. She brought Nicky up the ladder behind her and pushed open the hatch. She climbed through first, eyeing William cautiously as Nicky entered after. Yep, William was going for his gun.

“William, don’t.” She stepped in front of Nicky. “He’s Malcolm’s friend and their healer.”

Malcolm began convulsing and foaming at the mouth as his body clenched and jerked.

“He’s seizing again,” Claire said.

William motioned Nicky over to Malcolm as he slowly lowered his gun. Nicky knelt down beside Malcolm and rolled out his field kit full of vials as Ophelia found a place on Malcolm’s other side.

“What is that?” Claire asked as Nicky selected and removed a vial.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon,_ ” Nicky said before bringing the vial over Malcolm’s lips and tilting out a drop of liquid.

“Wait!” Claire shouted as she shoved her hand under the drop, catching it in her palm.

Nicky removed his dagger, uncertain if Claire was threatening him, which in turn caused William to raise his gun again.

“Back off.” William pointed the gun at Nicky. “Right now.”

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon._ ” Claire repeated what Nicky had said. “It’s what they say before death.” Ophelia looked at Claire in disbelief. Nicky had said he could help Malcolm. Claire returned her look. “He’s not trying to heal him; he’s trying to kill him.”

“Nicky,” Ophelia said, reigning in her fury to give him a chance to explain. “Is it true?”

“Yes. Death is the only way,” Nicky said, removing all hope.

“Hold on,” Claire said. “There could be a way to bring him back.”

“None that I've ever seen,” he replied even as he tossed his knife down in acquiescence to Claire.

Tim barged up through the hatch. “We have to go. The camp's leaving.”

“You!” Nicky shouted, recognizing him for the mass murderer he was.

“We have to stop–.” Tim was cut off by Nicky’s hands around his throat as he pinned Tim to the wall.

“Get off him!” William shouted, swinging his gun up and pointing it at Nicky.

“You slaughtered my people.” Nicky seethed as his grip tightened around Tim’s throat. “Elders. Children. Innocents.”

Ophelia pulled on Nicky’s arm, trying to stop him. “Nicky, you're killing him.”

“Blood must have blood!” Nicky shouted.

“Get out of the way!” William yelled at Ophelia.

She raised her arm up in front of his gun. “William, you are _not_ shooting him!” Tim deserved to die; Nicky did not. “No!”

“Move, now!” William shouted at her.

“Aah!” Nicky cried out from behind them.

Ophelia spun around, seeing both Tim and Nicky crumpled on the ground and Claire standing there with one of the Ark guard’s shock batons still crackling in her hand. Silence settled over the dropship. Too silent.

“Malcolm?” He was lying too still. Ophelia ran to his side, crouching over him. “He’s not breathing.” No, no, no, no.

Claire knelt next to him, checking his neck for his pulse. “His heart stopped. Move.”

Ophelia shifted out of the way as Claire began chest compressions on him. Every time Claire pressed down on his chest, Ophelia felt her own chest growing tighter until she also wasn’t able to breathe.

“Uuh!” Malcolm gulped and gasped as Ophelia felt the air returning to her own lungs.

He was still here. He was still with her. She looked at Claire, tears in her eyes and unable to hide the debt of gratitude she felt as a brief smile pulled at her lips. Malcolm continued wheezing and puffing, alive.

“He was dead. How did you do that?” Nicky asked in amazement, having recovered from the shock baton. Tim had sensibly scurried away already.

“You've tried bringing Reapers back before?” Claire asked. Nicky nodded. “And they died like this?” Nicky nodded again.

“What is it?” William asked, knowing Claire was getting at something.

“I know how to stop the attack.” Claire stood up. “I need to talk with your commander,” she said to Nicky. “With our medicine, we can cure the Reapers.”

Nicky nodded. “She is outside your new camp, preparing to attack if you do not leave.”

“What about Malcolm? Is he going to be all right now?” Ophelia asked.

Claire shook her head. “He’s going through withdrawal. I need my mom. She’ll know how to save him.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” William asked.

“Make sure he keeps breathing and if his heart stops again, do the compressions.” Claire looked to Ophelia and Ophelia nodded back. Claire had shown her how to do it when Jasper had been speared. “And try to keep his fever down.” Ophelia nodded again. “He dies, we all die.” With that parting warning, she left.

* * *

Ophelia and Nicky took turns bathing Malcolm all through the night as William helped tighten and adjust the restraints or held him down when he got violent. No one spoke more than necessary as they each contemplated the gravity of the situation before them. If Malcolm died, then the chance at peace between their people died with him, but Ophelia didn’t care about that. If Malcolm died, she would die right alongside him. She even stole Nicky’s vial of poison when Nicky was distracted with Malcolm and William went outside for a bathroom break.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t live without Malcolm; it was that she didn’t _want_ to live without him. After her mother had died and she believed William to also be dead, she had counted down the days to her eighteenth birthday not in trepidation like the other kids but in sustained excitement that she might soon leave this miserable existence behind. She had never imagined anything past her eighteenth birthday, not even when her mom was still alive. Not until Malcolm. This universe was such an awful, hopeless place and he taught her how to have hope.

She choked back a sob as she crossed over to Malcolm’s side, picking up the rag to resume bathing him. Nicky moved out of her way and leaned up against a wall. She reached out, cupping Malcolm’s cheek in her hand, her palm burning from his fevered skin even as he shivered and shuddered. She blinked to clear her cloudy eyes. “I can’t lose you, okay?” she whispered to him. A tear spilled out and splashed on his cheek. She wiped it away with her thumb just as William returned, crouching down across from her, his gun always within reach.

Poor William. He was the only other person on this devastated planet besides Malcolm who would miss her. William had given up most of his life to keep her safe but he had found a new purpose now, something greater than her for him to focus on. He would mourn her but he would survive. She turned away to the water bucket to hide her tears as she wrung out the rag.

The hatch opened and Tim entered again. “Oh, thank God,” Ophelia said. Nicky tensed but didn’t move to attack; he had agreed to wait for his commander. “Where’s Claire?”

“Trying to stop a war,” Tim replied as he helped Betty up through the hatch.

Betty went to Malcolm’s side and lifted his eyelid. “Pupils are unresponsive.”

Ophelia glanced at William, looking for reassurance but only seeing the same grim sadness that had been in place since they first captured Malcolm.

“Tie off his arm.” Betty passed her some tubing. “Tight as you can.” Ophelia quickly obeyed as Betty inserted a needle into a vial. “Thanks to the supplies your brother found, Malcolm might have a chance,” Betty said, referring to the Factory Station crash where Ophelia had found William again.

“What’s that?” Ophelia asked.

“This will bring down his fever,” Betty explained as she went to inject Malcolm. The tip of the needle puncturing his skin woke him up and he thankfully became responsive again. “Hold him down!” Betty shouted as William rushed to help Ophelia keep his arm still for Betty to get the needle back in.

“Aah!” Malcolm grunted as he strained and tensed beneath the ropes. “Aaaah!” He started convulsing again, his body growing taut and shaking.

“What’s happening?” Ophelia asked as he fell still beneath her hands. “Why isn’t it working?”

Betty checked his pulse. “His heart stopped.” Betty began chest compressions as Nicky walked over to their side. “You’re their healer?” she asked him.

Nicky nodded.

“Tilt his head back. Pull his chin down to open his airway.” Betty instructed him on how to do it.

“Come on,” Ophelia whispered to Malcolm, her fingers on the top of his head. It was taking longer than it had with Claire. “Come on,” she whispered to him again even as her stomach started roiling.

Betty’s rhythm began tapering off.

“You’re stopping,” Ophelia said accusingly. “What’s wrong?” No, don’t answer that.

“I’m sorry.” Betty backed away from Malcolm. “He’s gone.”

“No, it’s not possible.” Malcolm was right there. He was right there just a few moments ago. He was still right there! “You’re wrong!” She shoved Betty out of the way and started chest compressions on Malcolm again. Betty wasn’t doing it right. She hadn’t done it for long enough. Malcolm was still here!

“Ophelia.” William walked over to her, kneeling down beside her, his hand going to her shoulder.

Malcolm was alive moments ago; he couldn’t be dead yet. He was still here; he had to be here still. “Come back.” She begged. “Malcolm.” Sobs wracked her body, her grief strangling her. “Malcolm.” She wailed, consumed with near-hysterical sorrow.

Claire entered, followed by the Commander but Ophelia didn’t care. She didn’t care that they were now all going to be killed. If Malcolm was dead, then she wanted to be dead, too. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath through the pain of her heart being torn apart. William’s hand moved to the back of her neck and was the only thing keeping her conscious. But soon that too was gone and she collapsed on top of Malcolm, suffocating beneath the weight of her anguish.

She lay there; her head bowed as she prayed like Malcolm and begged her ancestor, her mother, to bring Malcolm back to her. She even prayed to Malcolm’s mother, asking her to give him back. “Come back.” She cried into his chest.

William tugged her off Malcolm’s body, and she became aware that everyone had their weapons drawn. Betty had even picked up the shock baton and now wielded it in her hand as if it were a sword.

“You lied,” a woman with regality spoke. That must be the Commander. “And you’re out of time.”

Betty spun around toward Malcolm, the shock baton crackling, and she jammed it down into Malcolm’s chest. His body arched from the electricity and then fell, unmoving.

“Hit him again,” Claire said.

Betty stabbed him in the chest with the shock baton a second time. His body arched again before falling. He gasped.

HE WAS ALIVE!

Ophelia crawled back over to him, leaning over him. His eyes opened and he slowly turned his gaze toward her with an awareness and clarity that had been missing before. He was back. He came back! “Oh, Malcolm.”

“Ophelia,” he whispered in that soft, drawn-out way of his that made her name sound like poetry on his tongue.

She smiled through her tears, her hands shaking as she cupped his face, feeling him alive beneath her fingertips. She raised her face up to the heavens and sent a silent thank you to their mothers for giving her back her heart.


	2. We Need to Work Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @wannabanauthor.

She was excited and a teeny bit nervous. Inara was due to arrive soon at Camp Jaha bringing her warriors with her as part of the agreement between Lexa’s Grounder Coalition and the _Skaikru_. Malcolm had told her that because she saved Inara’s life, Inara _didn’t_ actively hate Ophelia like she did the rest of the _Skaikru_.

Birch had announced they needed to have a welcome reception and had herded all the _Skaikru_ who had volunteered to work with the Grounders into a room inside the remnants of Alpha Station. Inara’s warriors soon began filing into the room and then there she was: Inara, the chief of _Tondisi_.

Ophelia rolled her shoulders back and straightened her spine, a giddy eagerness to once again see this woman who garnered such reverence from Malcolm. Inara was so assertive with her presence, so imperial in her stance. She was exquisitely magnificent yet still managed to demand respect and Ophelia wasn’t able take her eyes off her.

“All right.” Birch pushed his way through the crowd and toward the center of the room. “Quiet down.” He stopped in front of Inara and gestured for her to precede him. “Inara, please.”

Stale, unwashed breath washed over Ophelia as Digby, the smelly guard standing next to her, leaned over and whispered, “don’t worry; my shock baton’s got your back.”

“How about you stick it up your ass instead?” Ophelia replied, irritated and disgusted with him. He was only here to leer at the female warriors, having told her earlier what he wanted to do to them and lewdly asking her for advice since she was a “grounder pounder.” She had almost punched him but refrained from doing so because it would only get her locked up and she would never be able to help Birch solidify the alliance. Malcolm was depending on her to keep her temper. Their people were depending on her.

“I know we don’t have a lot in common,” Birch said, beginning the meeting. “But we do have a common enemy and a common goal. For us to reach it, to get our people out of Mount Weather, we need to work together….” He turned toward Inara. “ _Ogeda. Skaikru en Trikru._ ”

Ophelia was impressed with his attempts at learning _Trigedasleng_. She wondered who was teaching him; she wasn’t able to imagine Lexa doing something like that.

“Our survival depends on us sharing your knowledge….” Birch’s voice continued to drone on as Ophelia glanced around the room, her eyes falling on one of Inara’s archers, Penn. She recognized him from when she had helped Inara save Nicky from the Reapers. He moved across the room to where Kelly leaned sullenly against the wall. He and Kelly began whispering furtively to each other, too low for her to hear but their posturing was enough for her to know a fight was brewing.

Kelly said something, most likely an insult because it was Kelly, and Penn responded by knocking the mug out of Kelly’s hand. Kelly shoved Penn back and one of the guards started crackling their shock baton, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Mr. Kelly,” Birch called out. “Apologize to that man.”

“For what?” Kelly asked insolently. “He was the one who came at me.”

“Two days’ work detail,” Birch replied.

“Work detail? I just told you, I didn’t do–.”

“Care to make it three?”

There was an uncomfortable silence as tension filled the air, everyone waiting for either an apology or a fight. Kelly glared at Penn, shaking his head as he turned to walk away.

“You’re gonna burn just like your friend,” Penn told him.

Kelly spun around, swinging his fist at Penn’s face. Penn deliberately waited for the punch to land before hitting back. The idiots! It didn’t take much more than that before more people joined the fray. Ophelia shoved her way into the midst of it, thankful that Birch had only allowed shock batons into the room.

“Knock it off!” She yelled as she pushed between dumb-ass Digby and a _Trikru_ warrior.

“Stop!” Birch jumped into the melee, pulling at guards and yelling orders that no one was listening to. “People, stop!”

Ophelia got an elbow to her nose that caused her eyes to start watering but she managed to yank the gross and sweaty Digby off one of the warriors who had been laid low by a shock baton. More and more people fell immobilized around her as the overzealous guards stunned everything within their reach, including each other, until there weren’t enough people still standing to continue fighting.

Ophelia was one of the few to have not gotten shocked, being lithe enough and fast enough to narrowly avoid the electric batons. She bent down to help a _Trikru_ warrior to her feet, sparing another glance at Inara who had remained composed (and also unshocked) throughout the ordeal.

“ _Gonakru, gon yo we!_ ” Inara ordered her warriors outside. _Gonakru_. Ophelia had learned a new word.

“Inara.” Birch walked over to her side. “Please, allow us to continue.”

Her eyes narrowed as she sized him up and found him unsatisfactory. “You think a little tussle would scare us away? We have a thousand warriors outside your gates. You do not scare us.” She turned and marched off, her shoulders straight and her head held high.

Ophelia tried to keep from smirking but Birch caught her anyway and frowned at her. She scurried off after Inara and her ~~warriors~~ _gonakru_ before he could reprimand her.

Once back outside, the _gonakru_ began pairing off and sparring with each other as Inara walked among them, discerning their technique and yelling out instruction. The men weren’t holding back against the women. Malcolm always held back with her. Even though she loved him for it, if she wanted to become like Inara, she needed more than he could teach her.

Birch eventually made his way out and joined the crowd that had gathered to watch the _gonakru_ display their physical strength and power. She walked up to his side, feeling a moment of pride for Malcolm’s people and a longing to join in. The more she learned about them, the more she preferred them over the Arkers who had floated her mother without hesitation yet risked everyone’s lives trying to protect Tim from _Trikru_ justice. Hell, at this point, she knew more about the _Trikru_ than she knew about her own supposed people.

“Impressive, aren’t they?” Birch asked her. “What doesn’t kill them makes them stronger.”

She clenched her jaw as her taste buds came alive with the thought of a violent death. She wanted that. She wanted to be made stronger by surviving death again and again. She remembered how badly she wished for death when she thought she had lost Malcolm; she even still had the poison. She hadn’t changed her mind. If Malcolm died, she would follow. What had changed was her method. She no longer wanted to go quietly. She wanted to be able to fight her way to her death. She wanted to die screaming with a battle cry on her lips, her teeth stained red with rage as her enemies lay slain around her, their blood glistening on the edge of her sword.

“Phil!” Inara called out to a burly brute of a warrior, halting his sparring match. “ _Chon yu nes?_ ” She turned and asked the rest of her _gonakru_ who was to fight him next.

Ophelia took her opportunity and stepped forward. “I am.” She removed her sword as she walked to Inara’s side. “We’re supposed to train together, right?” She darted a glance at Inara, who remained impeccably unmoved by her offer.

“Only warriors train here,” Inara replied dryly.

She knew she wasn’t a warrior, but still…. “I saved your life.” She would never become a warrior if she didn’t get to train with them.

“And now I’m saving yours.” Inara stepped forward and called out an order to another pair of _gonakru_ before walking away, leaving Ophelia effectively dismissed.

She swallowed back her indignation and frustration. She wasn’t with Malcolm or William because she was supposed to make this situation work here at Camp Jaha but she was failing. There was no point in being here if she couldn’t even do what she was supposed to. _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim._ That’s what Malcolm had laughingly told her one of the first times he’d knocked her on her ass during a training session.

She walked away, finding a semi-private spot to settle in and get her anger back under control. Unfortunately, it was behind the temporary firing range Birch had set up to show off their weapons to the _gonakru_ and Digby the Dick was in charge.

She pulled out the whetstone and the vial of oil Malcolm had given her to carry and began polishing her sword as she listened to the guards chipping away with their bullets at wooden posts in the distance. They had lousy aim but that didn’t matter when they could just hold the trigger and keep shooting till they hit something.

She stilled her hands as tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision and clogging her throat, the sounds of the _Tondisi_ massacre echoing through her head once more. She blinked a couple of times, her tears splashing on the blade in front of her. She never thought she would long for the days spent hidden beneath the floor, waiting for the next “surprise” inspection.

Birch eventually made his way over to the firing range to supervise. He was slowly making his rounds through the various stations he had set up for his training integration plan. So far, it was still _Trikru_ on one side and _Skaikru_ on the other.

Ophelia discretely brushed away any trace of her tears as she refocused on her blade and on the steps Malcolm had taken her through when he showed her how to care for his weapons. There had been a steady ache in her heart since he’d left and it throbbed a little harder at the memory of his hands on hers, always so patient in his instruction and gentle in his guidance.

Penn strolled up with two other _gonakru_ Ophelia had not yet me. Digby, the asshole, noticed them. “Sir,” he said to Birch. “We got an audience.”

Birch watched them approach with a cautious smile on his face. “Hold your fire,” he ordered. He turned to one of the guards, holding his hand out for the gun. “Keep a solid stance,” he instructed as the guard passed over the weapon. “Observe.”

Birch brought the gun up to his shoulder, aimed, and fired rapidly, first at one target and then the next.

Ophelia frowned, unable to get over being disturbed by how easily those guns had slaughtered half a village. She preferred her sword. If she was going to take a life, she wanted it to be deserved and not handed to her at a distance. When she had asked about the kill scars on his shoulder, Malcolm had explained that taking a life should never be unemotional, no matter how justified or necessary. It went against everything the Arkers had stood for in all their years of floating people and Ophelia found it beautiful and eloquent and exactly what she needed to believe in. Taking lives should never be so easy as pushing a button or pulling a trigger.

Birch turned toward Penn and the others. “Would you like to try?” He held out the gun. “I could teach you.” He stepped closer to Penn in encouragement. “Your enemy has guns. So should you.”

Penn eyed the weapon extended out to him and reached for it curiously, fascinated with the opportunity in front of him.

“Penn! _Chil yu daun!_ ” Inara shouted as she came storming up, a heavy frown on her face. “ _Yu klin au beda_ ,” she said as she got in his face, telling him he knew better than to touch the _Skaikru_ guns.

“It’s all right.” Birch intervened on Penn’s behalf. “I offered.”

Inara turned her indomitable stare on Birch. “We don’t need your weapons.” She turned back around to face her _gonakru_. “Back to training, all of you,” she ordered before leaving again.

Penn’s gaze lingered on the gun before he glared briefly at Birch. He snuck one last look at the gun as he turned and followed after Inara.

“Guns could keep them alive,” Birch said to stinky-face Digby. “It’s like they’re afraid of them.”

“They are,” Ophelia spoke up, drawing their attention to the girl who lived under the floor. If Birch’s plan was going to work, then they needed to know more about the Grounders and she had been left behind by her brother and her lover to tell them. This was not the time for her to be quiet. “Legend has it, if a Grounder picks up a gun, even to shoot another Grounder, Mount Weather will wipe out their entire village. Can’t have your blood supply defending themselves, right?” She returned her attention to her blade, inspecting it carefully.

“If we don’t arm them, we can’t win,” Birch said with disappointment.

She stood up. “Like hell we can’t." She sheathed her sword for emphasis as she turned around and strode away toward the fallen station. She glanced briefly back at them; they were watching her, discussing her, the Grounder Pounder.

Damn right.


	3. Grounders Don't Give Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @wannabanauthor.

Ophelia watched the _gonakru_ train all through the afternoon. As dusk fell, it started to rain and yet they kept fighting with such incredible stamina and power. Their bodies were naturally fit and well-muscled; a hard life was better exercise than any of the fitness routines Ophelia used to do on the Ark.

They danced around each other with a ferocity and grace that was brutal in its beauty, a perfect union of strength and agility. They fought with swords and knives, not shying away from slicing injuries or bone-cracking blows, the rain pouring over them and mingling with their blood. It made her hunger for pain again, for that sharp, jagged stab of nerves catching fire and screaming under her skin, for her blood to boil out from open wounds and run in rivers to the muddy ground. She wanted to taste the battle high.

“ _Nou mou!_ ” All too soon, Inara called a close to the day’s training. “ _Nou mou._ ” She sauntered through her group of warriors, asking them if they saved energy for the hunt, smirking as she told them how the _Skaikru_ had no food worth eating (she wasn’t wrong). Inara raised her hand high and motioned for her _gonakru_ to follow as she marched toward the gates of Camp Jaha.

This was it. They were leaving and Ophelia will have failed Malcolm. Malcolm had saved her and believed in her, seeing her like not even her brother could. With William, he would argue and debate before finally relenting. With Malcolm, he never questioned her judgment and had a faith in her she didn't feel worthy of. He trusted her with this and she wasn't going to fail him. She couldn't. He had already lost so much because of her and she needed to help him get some of it back in any way possible. She needed to do everything she could to make him proud of her and be worthy of his love. _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_.

She stepped in front of Inara’s path, stopping her.

“Time for one more?” she asked.

“Step aside, Sky Girl.” Inara growled at her. “We're hungry.”

“Make me.” Inara’s eyes bore holes into her, yet she refused to waiver in her determination.

“Phil!” Inara called out. “Give this girl what she wants,” she said with a bored annoyance before moving past her.

Phil stepped forward, swinging his blade tauntingly before pointing it at Ophelia, a malicious gleam to his smile. He was a massive wall of thick muscle. _I am not afraid._ She also stepped forward, her sword at the ready. They slowly circled each other as Phil showed off his swordsmanship with fancy twirls.

“Yah!” He feinted at her, trying to startle her. Her muscles tensed but she didn’t shy away.

“Let’s do this,” she whispered to herself before lunging forward, swinging her blade fast and fluid. Malcolm’s instructions floated through her head; to make up for her lack of strength and size, the faster she struck, the more powerful the blow.

He deflected her easily, catching her arm and jamming his knee into her back before throwing her on the ground. She tumbled in the mud, her sword falling out of her hand, the taste of blood in her mouth as she bit into her cheek. Her heart was pounding and her lungs were burning from the cold and the pain. That was amazing!

Phil turned his back on her, bragging of his prowess too soon to his fellow _gonakru._ She wasn’t done yet. Her hand floundered in the mud for the hilt of her sword, her frozen fingers wrapping around it. “Hey, are you gonna give up that easily?” she asked as she climbed back up to her feet.

“She wants more,” Inara said. “Oblige her.”

He came at her swinging and she quickly dodged and ducked the oncoming blows. Fast. She had to be fast. She wasn’t fast enough, though. He caught her arm mid-swing and pounded another blow into her back before elbowing her in the face. Blood exploded out from her nose and mouth; thick, coppery, delicious. A swift kick to her stomach had her sprawled out on her back in the mud again.

“Inara, stop this.” Ophelia heard Birch call out, as if somehow sensing she wasn’t planning on giving up.

He was right. She wasn’t going to give up. She rolled herself back over and pushed herself up to her knees, panting as her newly cracked ribs grinded in dissent. She wasn’t stopping until she was either unconscious or dead.

Inara shouted something at Phil and he came at her again before she even managed to get to her feet but she was quick enough and fought back, her punches tired and sloppy in the cold, her injuries catching up to her. She got a solid hit across his jaw but it was a momentary victory because his fist to her face soon had her spinning in the air and landing in the mud again.

“Ah!” She lay on her back, her vision spotty, her head ringing, her lungs screaming. “Uh!”

 _Gyon op nodotaim._ She managed to get her legs back under her. Phil had his back to her again, gloating. She rose up behind Phil, angry he thought her so easily defeated. Grounders don’t give up.

He turned around, a flash of surprise crossing his face at her tenacity. He held out his arms, tempting her with a free blow. She swung but he easily caught her arm and twisted it painfully.

“Ahh!” He twisted it harder. He was going to break her arm if she didn’t surrender. She was only going to surrender to death or unconsciousness. She spewed out the blood and saliva that was pooling in her mouth, blowing it into his face with all the force her cracked ribs allowed.

His grip loosened on her arm as he wiped her spit off his face before he delivered a vicious punch to her gut, sending her to all fours. His booted toe connected with her stomach, kicking her hard enough to flip her over onto her back.

“Uuh!” Every breath past her cracked and broken ribs was a struggle. She gagged and choked on the blood flooding her mouth even as she clawed her way through the muck, still not ready to give up. Phil stood above her, drawing his fist back to knock her out completely and put an end to this match.

Yes, do it.

“ _Nou mou._ “ Inara intervened. “ _Branwada seintaim en taim set yu daun._ ”

Phil backed away from her, spitting to the side but not at her. That had to be something, right?

She coughed, gagging on the sludge and blood raining down her face. Her stomach heaved in distress, setting off a domino effect of agony through her broken body and leaving her immobilized, face-down in the mud. She had never felt more alive.

“I got you.”

Gentle hands grasped her arms, slowly turning her over.  Her vision briefly went black with pain. “Huh?” It was Birch. “Oh.” She allowed him to pull her to her feet, her body protesting at every movement.

“I got you,” he said again as he slung her arm over his shoulder and carefully wrapped his own arm around her waist, being mindful of her ribs. “What are you trying to prove?”

She coughed up more blood, gasping for air to speak. “What doesn’t kill you…makes you stronger.”

He frowned at her but he didn’t say anything further as he helped her to Medical and passed her over to Jefferson.

“Thanks,” she gurgled out as he turned to leave.

Birch’s brow furrowed but he nodded back.

* * *

Jefferson made quick work checking her over and treating the worst of her injuries. He injected her with a few substances and gave her some pills to swallow before leaving her with a nurse dabbing at her cuts and applying salve to her bruises.

The pain was starting to fade as the medicine kicked in. Without that to concentrate on, her mind started wandering to Malcolm and William. She winced as she shifted, trying to bring back the pain to distract her. They had probably reached the Mountain by now.

Her arm crossed her waist as her stomach churned, this time not in reaction to the kicks and punches it had received. Tomorrow, she might wake up to a world with her lover and brother no longer in it. She wondered if she would know; if they were so connected that she would feel the rendering of her soul at the moment of their deaths.

She shuddered, shifting again and bringing a fresh wave of suffering as the nurse dabbed at a gash on her cheek making it sting sharply.

“Aah!” Her head jerked back involuntarily.

The door opened as someone entered and the nurse stepped away, leaving Ophelia alone with the visitor. Inara’s boots appeared in her downcast gaze, surprising her. She thought Inara and her _gonakru_ had left already.

She didn't bother lifting her head as she let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want?”

“You fought like a child today,” Inara said flatly. “All aggression, no thought, no defense.”

Ophelia rolled her eyes as Inara stated the obvious. She had never even held a sword before last month.

Inara continued on, “Always leaving yourself exposed, revealing your next move before each strike.”

“Okay. I know. I got my ass kicked.” Ophelia sighed. “That should make you happy.”

“It does.”

Ophelia felt like Phil had punched her again, this time in her heart. She had wanted to impress Inara so badly, not just because she was trying to help unify their people but because she also wanted to learn how to fight better. She had found something she loved doing, something she might become skilled at with more practice. Instead, she had failed Malcolm once more, making a fool of herself in the process.

“Because you did not give up,” Inara said as she sat down on the next bed over, staring impassively forward. “Strength of spirit like that is rare. It must be guided.”

Ophelia finally raised her gaze to Inara, anticipation stirring as her hope returned. Maybe she hadn’t failed too badly.

“Do you know what a warrior's second is?” Inara asked her.

“An apprentice.” She tried not to sound too eager.

“I can make you a great warrior, Ophelia of the Sky People, if you're willing to do what it takes to become my second.” Inara turned and faced her, a brief flicker of doubt in her eyes as she waited for Ophelia’s response.

“What’s in it for you?” If Inara didn’t think she could do it, then why had she offered? Was it because of Malcolm?

“First lesson: never question me.”

This time, Ophelia saw something else in Inara’s gaze. She recognized Ophelia on her own merit as Malcolm did. Not as an illegal second child or a grounder pounder, but as a fighter and survivor. Ophelia glanced away, suddenly nervous at being given an unimaginable opportunity and it wasn’t just a chance for her; it was a chance to give Malcolm his people back.

She must have taken too long to respond because Inara stood up and began to walk away. “Okay,” she said, uncertain if she might already be too late. “I’m in.”

“Good.” Inara didn’t bother turning around. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

The corners of her mouth rose up in a smile. She had a new purpose now and with it came a chance to belong.

The nurse returned shortly after Inara left and Ophelia realized it was because Inara terrified the poor woman. She poked her tongue into the hole she had bit in the side of her cheek to keep herself from grinning.

“Can I go now?” she asked, standing up with a grimace.

“I’m not sure how you’re even standing.”

Ophelia stared at her impatiently until the nurse nodded with a frown and scurried away. Her smile threatened to come back; she was already learning from Inara.

She made her way back outside. While she had been recuperating in Medical, the _gonakru_ had gone hunting and brought back a boar to share with the _Skaikru_ for dinner. The boar was on a spit, roasting over a fire, the smoky fragrance wafting through the camp and enticing the _Skaikru_ closer.

She gingerly walked over to where the _gonakru_ were spread out, laughing and joking with each other as they recounted their hunt. She quickly found a spot to sit down before she embarrassed herself by passing out. Phil saw her, stopped in the middle of telling his story, and raised an eyebrow in surprise. Inara followed his gaze, giving Ophelia a brief nod of acknowledgement. It was more soothing to her wounds than anything that nurse had slathered on her.

The boar was soon finished cooking and, as chief, Inara was the first to carve into the meat. She dropped a slice on a plate and walked over to stand in front of the hungry _Skaikru._

“Eat,” she said. “Get strong. Only then will we win this war.” She held out the plate to them, presenting them with more proof of how important the _Trikru_ were to the survival of the _Skaikru_.

Birch stepped forward, taking the plate from Inara and smiling serenely. “Thank you.”

Inara walked back over to her _gonakru_ and Birch found his way to Ophelia’s side, taking a seat next to her.

“You did this,” he said with approval.

“You’re welcome.” It had worked out better than she expected but it was still her effort that had paid off. “Don’t blow it.”

Birch chuckled just as a plate was shoved under her nose.

“The boar put up a better fight than you.” Phil grunted at her as she took the plate.

He turned and left as Birch continued chuckling to himself. He was in too good of a mood and it was annoying her. That, and she was finding it difficult to chew.

“I see you’re making friends,” Birch said.

Ophelia glanced toward Inara sitting behind them, observing everything around her including Birch’s sudden interest in Ophelia.

“What do you want from me?” she asked bluntly.

“What do you think is gonna happen?” he asked. “Once we get your friends back? For now, we have a common goal, but one day, this war is gonna end. What then?”

“Just get to the point.” She didn’t have patience for his pontificating.

“We know so little about them. You've earned their respect.”

She looked away. That’s why he decided to pay attention to her all of a sudden. Inara had shown interest in the grounder pounder so now Birch was interested in her.

“I need you to be my eyes and ears.”

“You're asking me to be a spy?” she asked incredulously. He floated her mother and locked her up in solitary for a year before sending her to die on the ground, simply because she had the audacity to exist.

“I'm asking you to look out for your people,” he said obliviously.

“I am.” She stood up, hiding her physical discomfort as she walked the short distance to Inara’s side. Ophelia crouched down next to her, not speaking unless Inara decided to speak first. She wasn’t sure how long she might be able to maintain this position but damn; it felt good to shove it in Birch’s face exactly who her people were.


	4. I Know Where My Loyalties Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt asking for Ophelia's PoV in the Mountain.  
> 

Ophelia was a pacer. When she felt trapped, she paced even knowing that it always made her feel more trapped. She had lived in confined spaces all her life; she was used to it. She just didn’t like it. The mine had an exit but she was a prisoner here all the same. There was only one direction she was going and that was after her brother. Dead or alive, she was bringing him out of this damned Mountain or she would die trying.

She walked over to the intake door, glancing through the window. Malcolm had told her to stay back because they could see into the tunnel. When the power had gone off before the retreat was sounded, she had taken out the camera over the door so now the Mountain Men no longer had visual of the tunnel. She wondered if Malcolm even knew what a camera was.

She sighed. Malcolm had managed to creep back to the forefront of her thoughts once again. She forced herself not to worry over him like he and Inara had trained her. Once she had her brother back, then it would be time to go after Malcolm. Until then, William was her priority.

Inara. Her hand went up to the shallow cut across her jugular that still stung. Inara had retreated, fearing that Lexa was under attack but Ophelia knew better. She didn’t trust Lexa and wasn’t going to leave her brother behind on Lexa’s orders even if it meant losing her chance to finally belong. Her brother was more important than that.

She knew the pain she felt at Inara’s renunciation was minuscule compared to what Malcolm must have felt giving up his people, people he had known all his life, just to be with her. He had lost so much because of her. She swallowed, turning her attention back to the door and pushing Malcolm from her mind again.

Claire had tried to take her out of the tunnels and assign her to the rear guard. Ophelia now wondered if Claire would be so low as to have known Lexa would sound the retreat. No, she would rather believe the girl who had once been her friend was not as devious as that. But Claire had let that bomb drop on _Tondisi_ , not even warning Ophelia. Claire claimed she did it for William but Claire had never had a sibling. She didn’t understand that William would never consider Ophelia’s life as an acceptable loss, especially not after everything he had been through all their lives just to keep her safe.

No, Claire had done it because the lives of the handful of Arkers in _Tondisi_ was worth less than the Arkers waiting to be freed from the Mountain. Maybe with the retreat, Claire had once again decided those left in the Mountain were just as disposable as those she left behind to die in  _Tondisi_.

Numbers. That’s what Claire saw. Not the warriors and civilians Ophelia had dug from the rubble of _Tondisi_ ; not the loved ones and friends Ophelia held as they bled to death in her arms after being shot by Finn. Claire had been taught the numbers game by the merciless Arkers and now those that remained in the Mountain were no longer worth the lives of those outside.

Ophelia slid down next to the empty body dump (that’s what Malcolm had called it) as she recited the plan to herself, trying to concentrate on only William, trying to find that stillness within that Malcolm was always espousing. William would be leading the Grounder prisoners out and she would be there waiting.

An alarm began blaring, startling her from her reverie. For a split second she was back on the Ark again at the Unity Day masquerade dance and then she was being dragged out of her prison cell and jammed into a seat on the dropship. She expelled her breath, letting out her past traumas like Inara had taught her, and stood up.

“It’s about time.” She muttered as she turned to the chute behind her where noises were coming from. So maybe they were coming out this way instead of through the door. A half-naked body fell into the bin below the chute. She recoiled in horror as she recognized the battered face of the dead girl. “Fox.” They were killing her people.

Footsteps sounded from down the tunnel. Ophelia turned, her sword at the ready. It felt warm in her hand, comfortable and familiar, as if it were Malcolm’s hand in hers. He had given her the sword before they’d left for the Mountain and she wielded it with pride. In her other hand, she carried the tone generator, preparing for a Reaper as the intruder turned the corner.

Even worse than a Reaper, it was Claire. She turned her back on Claire in disgust.

“Ophelia. You stayed.” Claire’s voice trembled in surprise.

“Screw you. Of course I stayed.” She whirled back around, stepping closer to Claire in intimidation. “I know where my loyalties lie.” _Unlike Lexa_ , she thought bitterly.

“We have to get in there.” Claire shoved past Ophelia, knocking her in the shoulder on her way to the door.

She grabbed Claire’s arm, pulling her around to view the body dump and Fox’s corpse inside. “If that was possible, do you think I'd still be out here?” Ophelia glared at Claire, wanting her to see first-hand the destruction her misplaced trust had wrought. “Why did Lexa sound the retreat?”

Claire shoved away from Fox’s body and headed back toward the door. Ophelia followed after, re-sheathing her sword.

“She made a deal with Mount Weather, freed the Grounders, and now we're on our own.” Claire reached the door and began pounding on it.

“Stop!” Ophelia yanked her away from the door. “They'll know we're here.”

Claire had a panicked look on her face. She was freaking out again like she had after Finn died. Claire turned away from Ophelia’s perceptive gaze, breathing heavily.

“What about Malcolm?” Ophelia asked. Malcolm hadn’t told her but she knew he had been under Claire’s command. “There's no way he would have gone along with a plan like this.” If Claire was here, then why wasn’t Malcolm?

“He didn't. They took him.” Claire raised her gun, aiming it at the door.

Ophelia pushed Claire’s arm back down. “What's wrong with you?” she all but yelled. She didn’t know why Claire had allowed Malcolm to be taken but she was quickly losing her temper at Claire’s irrationality. She remembered Inara telling her to guide her spirit more productively when she felt that happening.

“I am getting through that door,” Claire shouted at Ophelia.

“And that's your plan?” Ophelia asked incredulously. This illogical, frantic mess in front of her was supposed to be their fearless leader, the one who decided whether 250 people lived or died. “William's counting on you. Everyone's always counting on you.” And now Claire was falling apart, becoming a bigger liability than she was an asset.

“Well, what do you want from me?” Claire cried out.

An apology. “You trusted Lexa.” Ophelia felt her anger rising again. “You let a bomb drop on _Tondisi_. You let all those people–.”

“I am doing the best I can!” Claire half-shouted, half-sobbed.

“Yeah? Well, it's not good enough,” Ophelia said defiantly. Claire needed to admit she had been wrong or she was just going to keep making the same bad decisions and continue trusting the wrong people that led them to where they were now.

The door behind them beeped. Claire raised her gun as Ophelia swung around, her hand reaching for her sword. William stood in the doorway, dressed in a Mountain Man’s uniform and with a gun in his hand, alive.

“Oh, William!” Ophelia rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Her eyes closed briefly at feeling the safety and comfort of her big brother’s arms around her once again.

She opened them to see Flint and Wash coming through the intake door. She released William and walked over to them.

“I knew it,” she said, looking between them. “You two are too scrawny to drill.” She poked at Wash before hugging him close and then turned to hug Flint, happy to see both of her friends still alive. She no longer felt so trapped. They might not have a Grounder army but that didn’t mean they couldn’t still rescue the rest of their friends.


End file.
